


Until her teeth were only accidental stars

by panarchy



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drips & Drabbles, Multi, OT3, TS Eliot, Who needs plot when you can use the force, free form, how fn-2187 got his groove back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panarchy/pseuds/panarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars"</p><p>In which a poem about hysteria somehow encapsulates the strange embrace of new relationships.</p><p>Or, "how fn-2187 got his groove back"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until her teeth were only accidental stars

The nip of iodine coaxed a hiss, as she blew urgent, useless air over the angry slash of her knuckles. The sleepy-eyed pilot stretched out at her feet knitted his brows in sympathy.

“It comes with a kick, doesn’t it? They used to have this stuff back at the academy though, easy transport for field work. It’d sizzle like a salted Hutta slime trail. Kriff, it left _scars_ …”

“Mental or flesh?” She braced her teeth, furiously flapping fingers to rid of the sting. He braced his arms, and rose carefully, catching her wrist mid-motion to examine it more closely. He exhaled gently, warm breath briefly whetting the pain. It was strange, still, this contact. A simple flick and she could graze his nose. _Close._

“Depends.” Poe grinned, as she swatted her hand away, holding the knuckles tight to her lips. She could see herself reflected in his eyes, they were that dark.

Rey stared back, thoughtfully, and sucked.

 

***

 

The world seemed to be in an upheaval. The transfer of the resistance to new coordinates collided with the hushed return of Master Skywalker, hidden from all but the upper echelons of General Organa’s purview. The ties to the Republic were strained taut, politics not all too welcoming towards the prospect of hermit jedi and whispers of fatal prophecies. There are no hidden maps for figuring out the subtleties of grief and indecision. After their initial contact, it seemed the Master was more distant with every coming day, her training seemingly at a standstill.

Rey knew all about waiting. But this chaos was an alien cacophony.

 

***

 

“Can you feel him?”

Poe’s question was cautious and sharp, out of the blue. They had been standing in the med bay in a distended silence, rapt at the rise and fall of Finn’s bound chest. His left arm had fallen to the side of the bed, and Rey had reached for it instinctually, positioning it carefully over his body, her fingers tracing worry marks into the palm.

“I don’t know what you mean. My hands had only minor burns. From what the med droid told me, nerve damage usually comes from deeper…”

“You know what I meant.”

They exchanged glances, Rey’s fierce and piercing. She could hear his nervous tapping against the untouched meal trays. She turned back to Finn, voice low.

“I’m not going to enter his mind. Finn deserves more decency than that.”

Poe nodded. “Finn deserved more decency than a saber through his spine too.”

“He was protecting me.”

“I know. And you brought him back, with a heartbeat and a hope. A miracle.”

He paused, pressing Finn’s shoulder now, the tray abandoned. Rey held tight to Finn’s hand, looking anywhere, _anywhere_ , but Poe’s searching face. 

“Rey.” Finn’s heart was thrumming with each breath. Or was that her own?

“I’m asking you to bring him back again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title by T.S. Eliot, "Hysteria"


End file.
